


A Leaf on the Wind

by Shenaniganbynight



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Art, Avatar crossover, BAMF!Bilbo, Crossover, F/M, Fili and Kili aren't idiots, Fusion, I don't like happy endings, Loosely follows the Hobbit story line, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Men are suspicious of Hobbits, None of the Avatar characters, Not always chronological, Poetry, Popping my fanfiction cherry, Spirit World, Spirits, Watercolours, caligraphy, elemental powers, elves are weird, lots of action, mostly pre-slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenaniganbynight/pseuds/Shenaniganbynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nienna saw that guides were needed to sow harmony and to foster compassion and understanding for others. She created the Hobbits, small, peaceful creatures, and Manwe gave them the power to soar and glide like leaves on the wind to keep them from harm and to aid in their work. So were the Windriders created."</p>
<p>Belladonna Baggins was one of the first Windriders born since they were massacred by men over a thousand years ago and kept the rebirth of the order secret. Now, her son is hired by dwarves to steal the Arkenstone and banish the spirit of avarice that has taken over the Lonely Mountain. Their leader knows what he is capable of but the rest of the Company do not. Will Bilbo use his blessing to protect the dwarves? Can he trust Thorin to keep his secret? </p>
<p>Is it time for the Windriders to return to Middle-Earth?</p>
<p>Knowledge of Avatar universe is not necessary. Maybe even beneficial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Leaf on the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd rather die than become one of those things, Bungo. Please, don't let that happen to me."

_“Ere the seeds of the world were sown, all was silent and grey as the held-breath hour before the silver-dawn_

_The dream of Ilúvatar skimmed the voiceless waves and the new born world rejoiced in its own formation.”_

The Tale of Nienna’s Blessing as told by Líndir, minstrel to Lord Elrond of Rivendell

 

September of the Year 2940 of the Third Age, Halimath of the Year 1340 by Shire reckoning

 

The Prancing Pony was an old, soot-layered tavern that nevertheless had the atmosphere of a far richer establishment. The lifeblood of Breeland that flowed through its doors gave extra light and charm to its aged grime. Even the foulest ale and the driest bread taste sweet when flavoured by the joy of reunion.

The congenial crowd did nothing, however, to soften Thorin Oakenshield’s grim look. Nor that of his conversation partner, Gandalf Greyhame. Little wonder, considering the topic of discussion.

“Unfortunately for us, the Arkenstone lies beneath the belly of a firebreathing dragon.” said Oakenshield, his dark hair still damp from the all-too-present Bree rain.

Gandalf puffed his pipe and twinkled his eye, as seemed to be his favoured method of communication.

“Where an army of fire and earth benders cannot go, a small, yet determined company may yet make the difference.” said Gandalf, for once speaking plainly, to Thorin’s relief.

“And yet well does the dragon know our scent, that of the dwarrow of Erebor. How does the great Gandalf the Grey, Disciple of Nienna and Spirit Guide, suggest we sneak past the terrible wyrm and snatch the King’s Jewel from beneath its claws?”

Here Gandalf leaned over the table until Thorin could count the grey whiskers on his lip. He thought privately that there was a no more effective way for the old man to announce a secret conference to the inn at large.

“What we need,” Gandalf murmured dramatically, “is a windrider.”

Thorin paused with his mug halfway to his mouth and peered at Gandalf. 

“Windriders have not been sighted in a thousand years, not since the massacre.” He said

“That, my friend, is not altogether true. I knew one myself rather well and although she is no longer able to help us, her son may well agree to lend his aid. I knew him in his toddling years and he was a very adventurous little thing who never cried when he scraped his knee. He lives in The Shire and his name is Bilbo Baggins.”

 

_“But for gentle peace, catch the shade of night_

_To her, will pass the mourning blessing_

_Holly brown will change to silver light_

_In the hour of her rising”_

“The Lay of the Sparrows’ Return”

Celebrían, in the Year 2509 of the Third Age, 1 month before her departure over the sea

 

 December of the Year 2887 of the Third Age, 1 Yule of the year 1287 by Shire Reckoning

 

It was early in the first morning of a new year, her thirty-fifth birthday, and Belladonna Took was running for her life.

Dark spirits, turned mad by the turning of the year and the full moon above pursued her through the gorse. Their cries and jeers were so inhuman that she could not discern between the sound of their glee and the wailing of the wind, the screaming of the sea.

She held a holly staff in her hand, a warm honey brown, polished to a satin finish, which she used to dispell some of the smaller, weaker spirits in her path. The burning of the thatch and whitewash village behind her cast her shadow far in front of her. Dark and distorted by the uneven ground, even her own shade seemed a nightmare in her desperation.

She had lost sight of the wizard and Bungo when the fire and smoke sprung about her. She peered around her trying to find some sign of her friends to no avail.

She stumbled to a sudden stop when she near ran off the cliff. A good thirty feet of vertical slate separated her from the pebbled beach below where crabs scuttled and fish flopped. It was both beautiful and deadly. She turned to search in another direction but a figure of a loathsome old woman seemed to spring from the purple heather in front of her.

“Don’t be afraid, little hobbit lass. My lads just want to dance with you.” She said

Tall as Gandalf the Grey she was. Her limbs were wrongly formed, too-long fingers and stretched palms with large elbows tucked close to her ribs. A dark purple cloak in tatters flitted about her like a mantle of cloth serpents whipping their heads in fury. The mercury moonlight made her visage even more ominous for even though its bright shine should have shown her features clearly, she seemed to defy illumination, shifting and blending with the dark like ink in water.

But Belladonna was not a Took for nothing.

“The poor wee lads will just have to dance with someone else.”  She said

The witch laughed as her sons convalesced in a circle around the hobbit.

“Is that so, my pretty?” the witch grabbed her by the wrists, numbing her to the bone, “Are you courting some handsome lad?”

 _“Do not let yourself be snared by whatever spirits may appear this night, Belladonna. The more powerful ones can charm you into being their slaves and if you die while in their service, they will eat your essence to increase their own power and your soul will not pass on to the afterlife,”_ Gandalf had said to her when the sun started to set, _“Do not accept anything they offer you. Do not tell them your name or those of your loved ones. Names have power.”_

Belladonna tried to yank her hands back, her short curls bobbing with her and lips pursed in the trademark “unimpressed Took” style.

The spirit, however, was strengthened by the moonlight and where Belladonna should have been able to slip through her grasp with little resistance, she instead found herself well trapped as the witch pulled her from the edge.

A young man came into her view, tall and stately with rich dark hair to his shoulders and clad in fine linen. Belladonna felt her hopes rise at the sight.

“You! Help me be free of this grasp!” she cried.

“But of course, my lady. I’d be glad to be of service.” He said

The man smiled and bent to pick up a stone from the ground. Belladonna yelled as he smashed her wrist with it until she dropped her holly staff. Her wrist ached with the bruises and cuts and she saw stars when he gripped her wrist, grinding the bones together.

 “There, that’s better isn’t it, dear mother.” He said.

With such light garb he should have been freezing in the winter air but he did not as much as shiver in the night. He seemed as a noble Man, fair of face and voice but his eyes were dull of all that was good and sparking with alien fire. He had been ensnared by the witch just as Belladonna would be if she could not break free.

The handsome man bowed in an exaggerated manner to the hobbit lass and held her close to him, lifting her up so that her face was level with his, both her hands caught between their chests, cradled between her breasts. As they spun, she caught sight of other human boys who had been enchanted by the specter, all handsome with strong jaws and brows, broad shoulders and dark hair, all jeering and laughing as their brother spun her around the circle, dancing to the screams of the dying seaside town.

When he spun them near the edge, some of the party would reach out and grab a handful of fabric, ripping it from her jacket or trousers, trying to take her for their own. Soon, her clothes were full of holes where the cold night rushed in eagerly to chill the bruised skin beneath.

When her tears started to fall, Belladonna thought she saw a flicker of something lost in the youth’s eyes. Dark blue like the anemones in her garden at home, there was something that had been tugged to the front by her tears. _Who was this boy?_ She thought. _Does he have a mother who misses him? Is there anything left of the lad he once was?_

“Belladonna, if it looks like I am in danger of becoming such a thing, you must promise me that you will kill me before I give my soul over to them.” Her friend, Bungo Baggins had said.

 _Dear, sweet, Bungo_ , she thought. _What have I led him into? I should never have let him follow me, helpful as he has been, this nightmare is no place for a gentlehobbit such as he._

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to try to bring this young man back as they danced close to the edge of the cliff. But before she could say anything something burst through the ring of spirits in a blur and collided with them as they flew off the edge into the wind.

She heard the scream of the witch and her stolen sons as their quarry plummeted to the beach below.

Before she hit the ground, she felt the queerest sensation. A feeling of calm spread from the top of her scalp down her shoulders as she breathed in, using all the muscles of her stomach and chest to fill her lungs, as if getting ready to belt out a ribald drinking song at the Green Dragon. That one breath seemed to flow in tingling streams and rivers down her arms and legs and through her tongue.

She flung out her arms and legs in front her as if to push against something below her and the breath seemed to burst from her palms and long feet in great volume. A spout of air reflected from the hard ground and sprang back towards her, lifting her and her falling companions just a little before they finally crashed to the rocky floor.

The pain of her ribs and wrist cracking made her ears ring and her breath stop. She lay on her side as she regained her breath and studied a small hermit crab as it made its careful way across the smooth black stones. Just as she closed her eyes she heard a voice.

“Bella? Bella, are you alright? Please, answer me, Bella. Your da will tan my hide if you got hurt on my watch.”

 _Bungo,_ she thought with relief, before her disordered thoughts darkened to dreams deep and blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, ficfriends. Still working on the front cover for this but I have written out the poetry in this chapter in copperplate calligraphy with some illustration and as soon as I figure out how to add them to the text I'll update. When that happens this fic will be a bitch to read on mobile, sorry about that.
> 
> Thank you and welcome back to all the wonderful people who gave kudos and subscribed to what I call the "soft opening" for this fic.  
> See you all again in a week or so with chapter one, which will be a fair bit longer. Bye!


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